I do not want to write this for the Spring

Is glorying the fields around the train.

Erupting greenery fills out the gaps

Between the hedges and last night's gentle rain

Has polished all the surfaces to gold.

Leafless trees, expectant, seem to know

Another week and every silent twig

Will smile with tiny buds, where once was snow.

Occasional veils of mist pretend that sleep

Can last for ever, but Sussex sheep were born

Cropping off the frost to help the sun

Imbrue creation with this glorious dawn.

           Wordsworth's welcome to Westminster Bridge

           These Sussex hills are where I'd rather live.

Brian Hick 16.3.09

©copyright Sally Hick 4.3.22